Triwizard Champions
by instertnomdeplumehere
Summary: Harry x Cedric - alternate Goblet of Fire timeline. Harry has to come to terms with being gay, and his feelings for the other Hogwarts champion. How will the school react? Rating will probably stay T.
1. Summertime

Chapter 1: Summer & Life Before the Burrow

Harry sighed.

Back again at Privet Drive, he felt less at home than anywhere else. Casting his eye around, Harry took it all in: the bleached, colourless walls; the small, cramped space; the shaggy carpet; - not even his brief stint in the Slytherin common room matched this. It was just so... so different to Hogwarts, so completely normal and dull, no vibrancy, no life, nothing. Harry wanted to cry out - seven weeks of this! Still, moping wouldn't do anything. He would just have to keep busy.

He was back in his room, alone, but he relished the privacy. Uncle Vernon had significantly backed off once he learned about Sirius... The thought of Sirius brought Harry great pain; it was not so long ago that Harry had been utterly convinced that he would be leaving the Dursleys and living with him for good, yet here he was. Harry mused. What would life be like with Sirius? Certainly nothing like this. Harry moved over to his trunk and began to unpack, not that he had much. Although he was rich in the wizarding world, Harry did not have much to show in terms of material possessions, besides a few choice presents from his close friends. Moving over to Hedwig, Harry paused. Would she be allowed out this summer? Frankly, Harry didn't care one iota what his 'family' (in the loosest sense of the word) thought, but the consequences could be dire. Would the threat of his crazy, murderous godfather trump his Uncle's rabid hate of everything magical? It was a risk.

Harry's thoughts were interrupted by a small squawk outside his window. He turned his head, and to his surprise, saw an owl, complete with letter attached. Harry frowned. Who would be writing to him, and so soon? He'd barely arrived home! The owl flapped its wings, impatient. Harry responded, amused.

"I suppose we better get you fed." Harry rummaged around in his trunk for his owl supplies and tossed the other a owl a few treats. Hedwig suddenly fixated on Harry and glared at him imploringly, as if to ask where her treats were. Harry threw her a few for good measure. The owl flapped its wings again, clearly wanting to leave. Harry took the letter and let it fly out again, closing the window after it.

The envelope only had 'Harry Potter' written on it, in neat, elegant cursive that Harry quickly identified as Hermione's. It read:

 _Dear Harry,_

 _We just arrived back home and I thought I'd write. I'm staying with the Weasleys for a bit before I go on holiday with my parents - a reward for exams you see, they're very proud. I know you must be feeling awful about Sirius and Lupin, honestly Harry so do I. Ron and I thought it would be best to attach a small present, just to keep you busy. It's only small I'm afraid, we haven't had much of a chance to shop. Chin up!_

Harry stopped reading for a second to look at what else was contained in the envelope. It was a small booklet about the England Quidditch team players and their stats. He grinned. Hermione chose well. Looking back at the letter, Harry continued reading.

 _Anyway, the Burrow is absolutely fabulous. I've never lived with a magical family before, so everything is new an amazing. You must come to visit soon - or at least that's what Ginny says. I won't make this too long Harry, I'm sure you will be very busy!_

 _Lots of love,_

 _Hermione._

 _PS: You wouldn't happen to know your telephone number, would you? Mr. Weasely has just purchased one (another one, yes - you know what he's like), and he's dying to try it out. The only thing is, they don't have any Muggle friends to try it on! I'm sure you'd love to telephone too. Best be off now Harry. Best wishes, and try not to let the Dursleys get you down!_

Harry blanched. He could imagine what a conversation between Uncle Vernon and Mr. Wesley, and it wouldn't be pretty. Still, Hermione was right; he would jump at any opportunity to speak with his friends. To that end, Harry began to formulate his reply.

 _Dear Hermione,_

 _Thank you very much for your present. The Burrow is great, isn't it! I will include a slip of paper with my phone number. Looking forward to your call!_

He stared blankly at the letter. It sounded so cold and dispassionate. Not for the first time, Harry wished he had Hermione's ability at writing prose. Still, he should send it. There was only one thing: how would he sign off? He definitely wasn't going anywhere near 'Yours faithfully', but 'Best wishes' sounded a bit formal. Harry chewed his lip. Maybe he should copy Hermione? Still, 'Lots of love' sounded a bit weird coming from him, especially to a girl. After what felt like an age, Harry came to a decision. He would just sign with his name - it was a stupid thing to worry about. He finished the letter and gave it to Hedwig to send. She shook herself down, glad to be free of her cage. Harry let her nibble on a few more treats before sending her off with the letter. Eventually, Hedwig grew smaller and smaller until she became nothing more than a twinkle in the night sky. Once she was no longer visible, Harry felt a pang of sadness. She was his only connection to the wizarding world - the world he had left behind. A sense of loneliness washed over Harry. He tried not to be jealous of Hermione, and Ron too. But there was no point; he couldn't hold it against them as there was nothing they could do, and besides, they kept in contact best they could. Harry sighed again. It was going to be a long holiday.

* * *

The next few weeks dragged by. Harry was still used as a workhorse by his Uncle and Aunt, but they knew now not to push it. Likewise, Dudley became very afraid of Harry and refrained from his usual teasing. Snatching a break from the scrubbing, Harry stopped for a moment of reflection. These moments of quiet Harry spent struggling to complete his summer work, as well as exchanging correspondence with his friends. He knew they did not mean it, but the adventures they described filled Harry with a poisonous evny and bitter self-pity. It came as a surprise then when Harry received an owl from Ron inviting him to stay with his family, and to accompany them to the Quidditch World Cup. Of course, if it was up to Harry, he would already be gone. Therefore, he resolved he would at least try to butter Vernon up, and if that didn't work, he could always threaten him. Harry smirked, and went back to scrubbing with renewed vigour.

It was later that evening Harry decided to confront Veron. In the end, he went with an assertive approach. Approaching the living room (where Vernon sat watching the sports recap), Harry quietly steeled himself before speaking up.

"I've been invited to stay with a friend for the last part of summer." He called out into the room, hoping his voice sounded more secure than he felt. Truth be told, Harry didn't know what he would do if Vernon stopped him; he simply had to go. All his nerves were screaming, on fire, and were only exacerbated by his uncle's response.

"You have, have you?" His uncle teased him, clearly noticing Harry squirm. Vernon knew he held the power, and Harry was disgusted by the sadistic glee lighting up his face. "I assume they're all freaks like you then," he continued. Harry desperately wanted to shout out, to correct him - how dare he? But his wiser side prevailed and he held his tongue, his temper bubbling angrily under the surface.

"If you mean my school friends, then yes." Harry faltered for a second. It was hopeless; nothing magical nor Muggle could convince - let alone persuade - his uncle. Vernon turned back to the TV, and Harry's heart plummeted; the conversation was over. Just before he left the room, he was interrupted.

"I've half a mind to keep you here." Harry stayed silent, not knowing what to expect. Vernon would not face him, and stared intently at the TV. "Nothing good can happen when you freaks get together at one of your freakish gatherings. Still," Harry froze. "It's not like you're any good hanging around here." There was a moment of silence. "Go! Bother someone else! Good riddance, I say."

Harry didn't wait, he mumbled his thanks and extracted himself as best he could before Vernon could change his mind. He floated up the stairs, every step increasing his elation - he was going to the Quidditch World Cup! Better yet, he had a couple of weeks escape from the Dursleys with the Weasleys, and possibly Hermione to boot! Reaching his bedroom, his thoughts became more sombre. After all, there was still quite some time before he left, weeks in fact. Harry sat on his bed and gazed, longing, out of the window. At least he had something to look forward to.

* * *

At last, the day came. Harry had eagerly written to Ron to inform him of his uncle's decision, who had written back with instructions on his pickup and transport. He would be travelling with Mr. Weasley via Side-Along Apparation, a thought that filled him with a sense of apprehension and dread; he had heard the horror stories - people losing fingers, toes, sometimes even whole limbs! Still, Mr. Weasley would make it safe; he is an accomplished wizard, right?

Harry's trunk rattled as it bumped over the threshold and was wheeled down the drive. Harry turned around take one last look at what he was leaving behind - a boring, detached poly, shielded by shrubbery and painted in neutral tones; it was identical to the house next to it. And the next. Harry grinned. He wouldn't miss it, not at all. There was no pang of sadness as he turned away and rolled his trunk down the road, well, at least not in that sense.

A strange notion had bothered Harry over the summer, distracting him. The more he thought about it, the sillier it sounded. It was just - all the boys his age had suddenly taken a huge interest in the opposite sex; (hell, even Dudley had a girlfriend!) an interest that Harry did not share. He broke his line of thought; he liked plenty of girls - Cho for one came to mind. Harry definitely liked her, and he was sure there were others. A cold voice spoke to him from the back of his head; what are you trying to prove? Harry shuddered, and quickly pushed that thought away.

Harry eventually rounded the corner where Mr. Weasley was already waiting for him. Harry felt guilty; Ron's father was often busy and thus Harry appreciated him taking the time to personally accompany him; he did not want to keep him waiting. Harry began to voice his apology.

"Sorry sir, am I late?" Mr. Weasley smiled, and let out a hearty chuckle, filling Harry with warmth and ease.

"Come on Harry, you know very well I'm no 'sir', please, call me Arthur. And besides, waiting for you was a pleasure." He leaned down to Harry's ear and spoke softly, as if sharing a secret. "I've managed to glean some, uh, interesting information about you Muggles here on Privet Drive." A twinkle grew in his eye and Harry remembered his extraordinary passion for anything and everything Muggle. Harry didn't understand it, especially coming from a wizarding family, (which was altogether much more fascinating than anything Muggle) but it was infectious nonetheless. "Well," he continued. "Best be off then Harry. Grab my hand, will you - yes just like that. Try to hold on, wouldn't want you left stranded in a field!" Arthur chuckled, but Harry suspected he was trying to put him at ease. Trying to push the horror stories from his mind, Harry prepared himself for what was about to come.

Whatever Harry was expecting was immediately forgotten, along with every other thought he was having. An indescribable, searing pain spread from his extremities inwards; it was like having your fingers and toes lot of fire and left to spread inwards, only a lot faster. Eyes squeezed shut, Harry tried to focus on something to mitigate the pain: Ron, Hermione, his parents - all washed away by a white wall of pain. All of his senses were engulfed; he lost the feeling of Mr. Weasley's arm and thought he was lost, stranded in a field, or worse. Defeated, Harry wanted to scream - he couldn't. Just when it became too much, it stopped. Tentatively, Harry opened one eye, then two. His face broke into a grin.

He had arrived at the Burrow.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks to the beautiful Espen for being a wondrous beta. As of today (2nd September), I've just started on chapter 3. Stay tuned!


	2. Life at the Burrow

Chapter 2: Life at the Burrow

Harry had arrived in a field, but not the one Mr. Weasley had described. Long grass sprung up around him, bristling against the leg of his trousers. A small pool glimmered to his left, casting off an ethereal glow in the sunlight. Behind it were a set of makeshift Quidditch hoops - Quidditch! Harry was itching to play, especially after last year's crushing defeat to Hufflepuff. The dementors had arrived at the pitch, gliding in like some foul flock of birds, and Harry had fallen of his broom. Then Cedric caught the snitch, winning the game. Harry pressed ahead, not wanting the bitter disappointment of that day to infect his current mood. Cedric Diggory... it rang a bell, somewhere, at the back of his mind. Cedric lingered on his mind momentarily until Harry snapped out of his thoughts; he was approaching the Burrow.

As Harry drew closer to the building, he realised what a miracle of engineering it was. How did it stay up? Magic, probably. It was tall, comprised almost entirely of red brick and the occasional wooden strut jutting precariously out of the building. Harry tilted his head. Was it him, or did it lean slightly? Not that it mattered - it was still a damn sight better than Privet Drive. Once they reached the door, Mr. Weasley spoke.

"You all right Harry? You've been awfully silent; I hope nothing happened to you with the whole Apparation business!" He chuckled, a real one this time. Harry looked up at him and smiled.

"Nothing," he replied. "I'm just glad to be back, is all."

Mr. Weasley smiled back at him. "Lovely to have you here too, Harry. Any time, any time, of course. Ron's been telling us all about you-" Seeing the look on Harry's face, he paused, before adding: "Only good things, of course," with a wink. Harry stepped over the threshold and had barely taken anything in when he was assaulted by a flying hug from (who he guessed was) Hermione.

"Oh, Harry! I've missed you so much - we all have! I hope we wrote enough, I'm sorry, we were so busy. I hope the telephone, uh, incident didn't land you in too much trouble!" Harry almost choked, forget a hug, it was more of a throttle. Coupled with Hermione's sudden explosion of speech, it was all quite overwhelming - in a good way. It was nice to be back; it was nice to be missed! Hermione relaxed her grip somewhat, and a voice called out from behind her.

"Jeez, Hermione give him some room! It's not every day you enter the Weasley household, after all." Harry turned to see Ron sitting on the stairs, characteristic smirk still firmly lodged in his face. "Nice to see you, mate." He held up his hands, palms flashing at Harry. "No hug from me, though."

Harry smirked back at him. "It's okay. I think I've got my summer's worth from Hermione anyway."

Hermione interrupted them with a tut. Muttered under her breath, "Boys!" Harry had no idea what she meant, but he usually didn't. Eyes back to Ron, he spoke.

"It's great to be back." Turning to Hermione, he continued. "Aren't you supposed to be with your parents anyway?"

Ron answered for her. "She was with us for the start, then went off with her parents. Decided she liked it here so much, she came back." The smirk crept back into his face. "Us Weasleys will do that to you."

"Actually," Hermione interjected, a note of reproach in her voice, "I told my parents I was here to learn. I said that staying with an all-magic family will help me with my studies. They were slightly disappointed," she mused, "but they are keen to see me do well."

Ron rolled his eyes. Doubtless Hermione had been working frantically throughout the duration of her visit, something bound to annoy Ron no end. "Anyway mate, welcome. Changed much since your last visit?"

Harry looked around. It hadn't changed much, but he still needed a moment to process the wonder of it all. There was still the magic clock, with one hand for each Weasley; the cutlery and plates animated to clean themselves; and the gnome-infested garden stretching out ahead. "No. But it's still amazing."

Ron suddenly turned sheepish. "It's not much... You should see Malfoy Manor."

Whatever he was about to say next was interrupted by the arrival of the twins from the top of the stairs. George sighed. "Oh, it's only Harry."

Fred sighed as well, even more theatrically than his brother. "From the way Hermione was screaming we thought it was You-Know-Who himself." Hermione shot him daggers, and Harry winced. He had been on the recording end of far too many of her disapproving stares. Fred laughed it off. "Come on Harry, let's get your trunk. You'll be staying with Ron. We apologise in advance for the smell." Harry chuckled and followed his friends up the stairs.

* * *

In contrast to the rest of the holidays, the final fortnight was gone in a blur. Harry had almost no time to himself, not that he minded, however, as each day was filled with something magical and exciting. Even chores became thrilling - something Harry thought was impossible. Thus, it was with a heavy heart that Harry began to pack his trunk for school. Hermione had been nagging him, but she was right, they wouldn't have much time after visiting the Quidditch World Cup. Always the procrastinator, Harry looked for any excuse to hold it off - 'tomorrow, maybe, or the day after', but there was no escaping Hermione's ire. Having folded (or at least attempted to fold) his last shirt, Harry placed it neatly into his trunk and push the lid shut. He didn't mind, really. Hogwarts was even more magical. Surveying the room, Harry smiled. It was small, there was no denying it, but it felt homely; it had character. Decorating the worn furniture were countless little trinkets and baubles, each with their own story. Not for the first time, Harry wondered what growing up with the Weasleys would have been like - better than the Dursleys, that's for sure! Lost in thought, Harry did not notice Ron enter the room.

"Hey mate, you packed? I think we're off soon."

Harry responded with a jolt, surprised. "Phew, you scared me for a second. Yeah, I'm done. You?"

Ron shifted his eyes, and Harry could already guess the answer. "Almost."

Harry pressed on, sensing he should change the subject. "Hermione's not coming then."

Ron leaned in the doorway, looking somewhat stormy. "Nah, she says her parents wanted her back. Telling the truth, I just think she doesn't like Quidditch. Fair enough, s'pose."

Harry looked glum, even though he never admitted it, he liked having Hermione around. She was a useful foil to Ron, and he counted her among his best friends.

Ron picked up on Harry's mood and continued. "Cheer up mate, Ginny says she's coming. I'm sure you two would love some alone time." His expression went blank. "Although, she is my sister after all."

Harry feigned outrage and tossed a pillow at Ron, deliberately missing. "Knock it off. As if!" Harry paused. He knew Ginny liked him, but did he really like her? She was alright, nice enough, feisty, but that was it. Harry didn't feel any passionate spark, or deep longing - that what love is supposed to feel like, right? Harry shook thoughts of love from his mind, and piped up again. "Who else is coming."

"Fred and George; everyone else is busy. Mum's staying to hold the fort. Bill will be working; Charlie's overseas; God knows where Percy is."

Harry dropped his head, trying to hide his pleasure at Percy's lack of an appearance. Unfortunately, Ron was not entirely oblivious.

"You alright there mate? Come on, it's not like I wanted him to come, anyway."

Harry looked up at him and grinned; he was about to speak but a call from downstairs interrupted him.

"Think that's our cue. Come on, let's go." With those words, Ron departed.

Harry got up and placed the pillow back to its rightful place on the bed. As he left, he lingered in the doorway, stealing one last glance at the room.

* * *

Harry stumbled; his legs ached; he felt like he'd been walking forever. A quick look at Ron showed him he was not alone. At least the scenery was pleasant, well, it was magnificent really. Sweeping hills dovetailing into each other; twinkling lakes glistening in the sun; the odd cloud wafting gently along - it was the stuff dreams were made of. There was a thick forest to his left, but it looked inviting not foreboding. Harry thought back to his experiences in the Forbidden Forest: dead unicorns and giant spiders. Maybe the forest wasn't so welcoming after all.

Mr. Weasley raised his hand and the group came to a sudden stop - well, a sudden as can be when half the group was barely shuffling, anyway. Gesturing to a discarded boot at the foot of a tree, he beamed, triumph written all over his face. Harry didn't say anything (not wanting to embarrass himself), but it didn't take long for George to voice his confusion.

"What's the deal, dad? It's a boot."

It was Fred who replied. "No, dingus, it's clearly a Portkey."

George shot back. "Oh, and you'd know all about those, wouldn't you?"

Harry frowned. Was there something he was missing? Not only between the twins, but about the boot itself.

"Err, what's a Portkey?" All eyes turned to Harry, who burned with embarrassment; suddenly the floor became very interesting to look at.

Ron pitched in to help his friend out. "It's like a transportation device mate. You enchant an object, and when you touch it, it takes you to a predetermined location. They aren't common though, most people just Apparate."

"That they do," Arthur explained, "but since most of you aren't of age yet, we don't have much of a choice."

"Then why did we spend so much time walking?" Realisation dawned on Harry's face the moment he asked the question. "Oh, you didn't want Muggles to find it by mistake." Harry, didn't have long to feel embarrassed (again!), as his thoughts were driven from him by the arrival of nine other than Hermione.

She burst out of the woods that Harry was previously admiring and rushed up to their group. There was silence; everyone was stunned, and Hermione was catching her breath. Her cheeks were red and sweaty; she must have been running for quite some time.

"Hermione!" Fred exclaimed. "You do know how to make an entrance!"

George continued, apologetic on the behalf of his twin. "Still, glad you could make it.

Ron narrowed his eyes, suspicious. "How'd you know where to find us?"

Hermione sat down among the grass, and glared at Ron. "Your mother told me about the Portkey and its location. I also used a map, Ronald." She held up an Ordnance Survey map, which seemed to delight Arthur, who spoke next.

"Well, the more the merrier - or so the Muggles say. Speaking of which, the Diggorys should arrive any moment."

Harry finally remembered - that was where he had seen the name Cedric; Ron had mentioned him in a letter. He turned to Hermione, who was clearly preoccupied. He dropped his voice, making sure their conversation wasn't overheard.

"Hey, nice to see you."

"Thanks." Hermione was clearly not interested in conversation, yet Harry persisted.

"I thought your parents wanted you back?"

"They did. Keep your nose out of it." The harshness in her voice made Harry recoil; she noticed, and offered him a weak smile. "I'm sorry for snapping," she continued, but offered no explanation.

Once more, silence fell over the group; it was several minutes later that Ron spoke up. "Uh, why aren't we going through it then, Dad. Isn't it ready?"

"No Ron, we're just waiting for the - ah! Here they are!" Arthur gestured in front of him, where Harry could just about make out two figures approaching. As they drew closer, their forms began to take shape, until Harry recognised them as a man and his son.

"Morning Amos! Long walk?"

The older man began to speak; he was short, looked middle aged (his hairline was beginning to recede), and had a round, red face. He was wearing a large coat, over-trousers, and walking boots, so Harry got the impression he was not fazed by the walk through the woods.

"Well, yes, we were up at around five, I believe. Not that Cedric minds, eh?" Ron looked to Hermione and rolled his eyes, but Harry was more focused on the boy standing next to Amos. He was taller than his father, with short, brown hair and cloudy eyes. He had a strong jaw, too - but Harry had to look away when Cedric caught him staring. Cedric raised an eyebrow and a small smile played on his lips, but it flickered off when his father resumed speaking.

""An edge of hubris crept into his voice, and Harry almost didn't want to answer. He glanced at Ron, who was too busy studying Hermione, then turned back to Amos to reply.

"Yes, I'm Harry. Pleased to meet you, sir."

Amos seemed to disregard Harry's reply; he spoke as if Harry was not there. "My son beat you, he did. He's a better Seeker."

Harry felt affronted; he did not usually take Quidditch personally, but when someone else made it personal... He shook himself. It would not do to let his temper take control, instead, he tried to defuse the situation. Cedric got there first.

"Dad, he fell off his broom; there were dementors..." Muttering, his voice trailed off. His gaze met Harry's and he sent him a weak smile, his eyes blazing. Harry was grateful for the intermission, but now he spoke.

"Yes, he did catch the Snitch, so I suppose he is better." He shrugged, completing the act, but it did not satisfy Amos, whose pride had stepped into vindictiveness.

"Well, you weren't much competition anyway, I mean, a few dementors come along and you fall of your broom? What a joke, eh?"

Everyone (bar Amos) looked absolutely mortified, none more so than Cedric. Not for the first time that day, Harry was too dazed to speak - not that it mattered, as someone else had his corner.

"Yeah, well, maybe if you'd had your parents brutally murdered in front of you, the dementors would get through that thick skull of yours. Well, it's not like you have a soul to affect, or anything." Ginny's cheeks blazed red - the same shade as her hair, which she tossed, diva-style. Harry appreciated her support (despite its curt tone), as he was not sure what to say next. Fred, George and Ron all tried (and failed with varying degrees of success) to suppress snickers; Harry did not have to guess why. To his surprise, Cedric was smiling, broadly, in fact. They locked eyes again, and Cedric lingered before moving on.

"Right, well, we'd better get moving then. The window's only small; we wouldn't want to miss it."

The group gathered round the boot, each placing a hand on it. Harry had no idea, so he just followed the others, and ended up in between Cedric and Hermione - who strangely enough was still quiet. Harry resolved to find out what was on her mind, despite having been brushed off earlier.

Taking the Portkey was a similar experience to his experience with Apparition: gripping on for dear life, burning sensation, etc - but Harry was more prepared this time. In fact, by the time he landed at the Quidditch World Cup, it had almost been a pleasant experience!

Almost.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thanks go to my bæta (geddit?) Espen again for his diligent work. I also wanna thank Nikita for making sure I don't break to much canon and make JK die. Finally, I will thank everyone who's viewed, followed, or favourite'd this story and decided to stick around for Chapter 2. You guys are the best!


	3. The Quidditch World Cup

**A/N:** long story short, Espen and I are no longer speaking, and that killed a lot of my motivation for this story. This is a draft of Chapter 3 I found on my phone and edited lightly before posting here. I'm not sure if I can commit to regular updates, but I'll try my damnedest! Thanks for waiting everyone 3

Warning for mild swearing in this chapter.

* * *

Chapter Three: The Quidditch World Cup

Harry hit the ground with a resounding thump, followed by a less reassuring crack. He winced; he was not badly hurt, just shocked. His glasses had fallen off his nose slightly and were crooked, so Harry took a second to notice something dangling above him. It was a hand; Harry took it, and was pulled to his feet. After adjusting his glasses, the blurry world came into focus, and he spotted it was Cedric who pulled him up, and it was Cedric's hand he was still grasping. Almost wistfully, he relinquished his hold; Cedric's grip was warm and firm, and Harry cracked a grin at the older boy.

"Cheers!"

"Hey, no problem!"

Once more, a smile played on Cedric's face, briefly illuminating his features. Harry was dying to know what was on his mind, but he noticed figures approaching - the magic was broken.

"Well then Cedric! Off this way for us." Harry wanted to roll his eyes. Amos' voice was needlessly loud and booming, as if he was trying to show off. Strangely enough, Cedric looked like he was close to rolling his eyes too. However, Harry was not sad to see the back of Amos, even if it did mean leaving Cedric. Before turning to the Weasleys, Harry snatched a quick glance at his receding figure - but was interrupted.

"I suppose we'd better be off too." Arthur smiled, but Ron, tired, audibly groaned. "Come on Ron! It's not much further now." As the Weasleys fell into step, the conversation dried up, allowing Harry to lose himself in his thoughts. He was excited to see the Quidditch, that was true - but he couldn't shake this nagging feeling, similar to the one he experienced upon leaving Privet Drive. He frowned. What was wrong? A voice piped up in his head:

As if you don't know already.

Harry's mind clouded over, so much so that he did not initially notice when Ginny began speaking.

"Harry, I hope you don't think I was too harsh back there." Harry did not respond, letting her continue. "It's just... I don't like the way he spoke to you Harry! And I'm not just going to let it slide by!" She blushed, her cheeks burning the same red as her hair. Harry smirked at her act of defiance; it was endearing.

"Ginny, it was wonderful!" Her face lit up at the praise. "I'm glad someone is defending me whilst I'm too stunned to do it myself." Ginny's entire body seemed to slump slightly, as if she was on edge before.

"Oh, Harry, I was so worried - I thought you might think I was being rude - speaking on your behalf - and I was rather rude of course -" Harry cut her off.

"Ginny, relax. He had it coming." The corners of Ginny's lips rose, smiling as she responded.

"Yeah, I suppose he did." There was a slight lull in the conversation as Harry scrambled for a new topic, but Ginny got their first.

"Anyway, I think Fred wants me. See ya Harry - and sorry again!" Without waiting for a response, she tore off at a blazing speed, her red her glorious in the sunlight. Harry was bemused at her erratic behaviour; could she be more obvious? He would have to approach her eventually, but it could wait. They had almost arrived, and Harry didn't want to be at the back of the line.

* * *

After passing seemingly endless rows of tents, Harry was relieved to finally set up and get a chance to sit down. He would let the others do all the heaving lifting; he assumed he would merely get in the way. Hermione had taken charge (naturally), and Ginny was her loyal lieutenant. This left Ron Arthur, and the twins to be the grunts whilst Harry took a moment to reflect. He was absolutely buzzing for the game. It was bound to be amazing; Ron had been telling Harry all about the rivalries between the players and, most importantly, the Seeker Viktor Krum who appeared to be the darling of the Bulgarian team.

Once constructed, Harry took a peek inside the tent. It seemed to laugh in the face of the laws of physics but by this point he expected nothing less. He was to sleep in the same room as Ron, an arrangement that now felt natural. Hermione and Ginny were paired, and the twins were together too. Once the initial novelty wore off, Harry headed out, twitching, before being stopped by Ron.

"Ditching us already?" He asked, feigning hurt.

"Something like that, yeah." Harry grinned at his friend. "I'm getting a breath of fresh air." Ron's eyes widened as he spoke.

"But we had to walk halfway across the bloody country to get here! I'm bloody knackered! You can go by yourself mate." Harry failed to suppress a smirk.

"Must be my natural athleticism and good looks." He said, the corners of his mouth twitching. Ron replied with a derisive snort.

"Yeah whatever mate, piss off. Won't even miss you." Harry could not think of a response so merely laughed and left, with an exaggerated sarcastic wave as he did.

* * *

He wandered aimlessly for a while, taking in the sight of such a large number of (over-age) magic folk in one place. Superficially, it seemed like a normal, if somewhat eccentric, campsite, but if a Muggle somehow pierced the wards and the charms surrounding the area they wouldn't have far to go before noticing something amiss. The place was awash with activity; hurried Ministry officials rushed around, clearly swept off their feet. It was quite simply - magical.

It was to Harry's surprise then when he quite literally bumped into Cedric Diggory for the second time that day. He was not looking where he was going (and evidently neither was Cedric) and the pair collided, staggering away from each other. Cedric chuckled, thankfully seeing the funny side.

"Cor Harry, we aren't half a pair of idiots are we?" Harry was quick to retort.

"Well, speak for yourself," he said, which Cedric found hilarious, and began to guffaw. Harry was quite swept up in the infectious happiness of the scene and found himself laughing alongside Cedric.

Harry cut off his laughter when he noticed Cedric lean in closer, face somewhat clouded. He frowned, puzzled, as Cedric began to speak.

"Seriously though, I was looking for you Harry. I guess I just want to apologise about earlier; my dad - he was way out of order. He can be like that a lot." Harry let the older boy speak, not wishing to interrupt what seemed to be a sincere and painful apology - despite being on the behalf of another. "It's just my parents are both very proud people, and that can often manifest negatively, I guess. Just," he paused, "I'm sorry though."

Harry started; Cedric seemed to apologise profusely for a mistake that was not his. Still, Harry mumbled his assurances. "I'd honestly forgotten man; don't worry. Besides," Harry smiled, "Ginny had my back!"

Cedric's whole face seemed to perk up with Harry's words; he spoke, almost beaming. "Yeah, she sure did! I'll have to watch out for that one!" He added a wink, which only confused Harry. "Anyway, I should go find my seat; the game starts soon. Promise you'll sit by me?" Cedric spoke with earnest, and there was something inside Harry he couldn't deny. He replied immediately:

"Of course."

Cedric slapped his back and told him he'd see him there; a buzzing sensation lingered where he'd touched. Harry realised he should probably go to find a seat too, and after a moment, turned towards the stadium and made his way there. He was early, but the buzz of the people who had already arrived was not insignificant. Harry decided to honour his promise and looked around for Cedric, trying to find a seat.


End file.
